“I have not been to her house, because she has never asked me since that time I despised her commands, but we have a talk when we meet on the road.  Her ladyship loves all manner of information, and is good enough to take an interest in my progress.  I know she takes an interest in it, because she recollects what I tell her—­not like our ascetic parson, who forgets whether I am at Balliol or Oriel, and whether I came out first class or fourth in moderations.”

“I wish I could meet Lady Latimer on the road or anywhere!  Seeing you makes me long to go home, Harry,” said Bessie with a sigh.  Harry protested that she ought to go home, and promised that he would speak about it—­he would go to Fairfield immediately on his return to the Forest, and beg Lady Latimer to intercede in her behalf.  Bessie had a doubt whether this was a judicious plan, but she did not say so.  The hope of deliverance, once admitted into her mind, overcame all perplexities.

A little while and the canon came in glowing hot. “Pouf!” and he wiped his rubicund, round visage with a handkerchief as brilliant.  Coming straight from the glare out of doors, he was not aware of the stranger in the salon till his eyes were used to the gloom.  Then madame and Bessie effected Harry’s introduction, and as Harry, with a rare wisdom, had practised colloquial French, he and the canon were soon acquainted.  Once only had the old man visited England, a visit for ever memorable on account of the guinea he had paid for his first dinner in London.

“Certainly, they took you for an archbishop or for a monsigneur,” said Harry, when the old story of this cruel extortion was recited to him.  The canon was pleased.  This explanation gave a color of flattery to his infamous wrong.  And madame thought her brother had quite l’air noble.

Babette summoned them to dejeuner.  Harry stayed gladly at a hint of invitation.  Across the table the two young people had a full view of each other, and satisfied their eyes with gazing.  Bessie looked lovely in her innocent delight, and Harry had now a maturer appreciation of her loveliness.  He himself had more of the student aspect, and an air of lassitude, which he ascribed, as he had been instructed, to overstrain in reading for the recent examinations.  This was why he had come abroad—­the surest way of taking mental rest and refreshment.  Incidentally he mentioned that he had given up boating and athletic exercises, under Mr. Carnegie’s direction.  Bessie only smiled, and reflected that it was odd to hear of Harry Musgrave taking care of himself.  One visitor from England on a day would have been enough, but by a curious coincidence, as they sat all at ease, through the open window from the court there sounded another English voice, demanding Madame Fournier and Miss Fairfax.

“Who can it be?” said Bessie, and she craned her fair neck to look, while a rosy red suffused her face from chin to brow.